


Chaos Is Our New Order

by kopperblaze



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt is protective, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jaskier is a cinammonroll, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: As a child he’d always dreamt of adventures and heroics, but when the dalliance with the innkeeper’s daughter had led him to a castle full of vampires, Jaskier found that he wasn’t cut out to be a hero after all.Or: The one where Jaskier needs rescuing and brings nothing but chaos to Geralt’s life.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

It pained Geralt to think it, and he’d much rather cut out his tongue than ever speak it, but maybe his father had been right. Getting involved in the business of humans was nothing but trouble. Getting involved in the business of humans was what had him riding through the forest barely an hour before dawn, the shield of darkness already watered down by the approaching sun. It was possibly the most foolish thing Geralt had ever done, and yet staying at the castle hadn’t been an option. Not with his mind restless and the echo of a too-fast heartbeat in his chest. 

Roach snorted, her breath steaming up in the frigid air. She was none too happy about their little ride, and if she had been able to talk she would’ve told him what an idiot he was, running off half-cocked like this and getting himself killed over nothing. 

Because the human would’ve made it back to the village by now, safely tucked away with the girl he’d chased, as if she were the one needing protection. They’d be laughing about it, curled around each other, exchanging sweet kisses. Geralt ignored the red hot something that flashed through him at the thought. It was good that they were gone. Things would go back to the way they had always been, the brief chaos that had disrupted his endless nights a thing of the past. 

He was about to turn around and escape the creeping fingers of dawn, having convinced himself that the familiar flash of black in the girl’s eyes had been nothing but a paranoid creation of his mind, when he smelled it. Underneath the crisp scent of snow and forest, there was a metallic tang. Geralt swallowed as saliva flooded his mouth and he turned Roach around. The smell grew sharper, cloying to the point that Geralt could barely think. His body thrummed with excitement while his heart, had it been able to, would’ve fluttered with terror. 

Roach neighed and Geralt’s eyes found the dark form crumpled in the snow not a second later. “Good girl,” he murmured as Roach came to a stop and he jumped off her back, the snow crunching beneath his boots. He drew in a deep breath as he approached slowly, steeling himself for the possibility that he was too late, had wasted too much time pacing his chambers and overthinking. 

In the darkness the blood staining the snow appeared black. Unmindful of it Geralt knelt down next to Jaskier’s broken form, reaching out a tentative hand. Jaskier was so pale, looked so small that he was afraid he’d shatter under Geralt’s touch. He trailed a gloved finger over the gaping wound on the right side of the man’s neck. The work of an inexperienced fledgeling who didn’t know better. His father liked them that way, liked watching as they turned into stumbling beasts, biting and clawing with all the grace of a fowl stumbling on shaky legs. 

Geralt wanted to believe that if she’d known better she would’ve been kinder to Jaskier, but he’d seen many like her before. Despite their pretty words and coy smiles, they never cared if their selfishness left a trail of corpses in their wake. 

Brushing his fingers over to the other side of Jaskier’s neck, Geralt held still until he felt the faint fluttering of a pulse that sparked a burst of hope in his veins. Behind him, Roach nervously kicked her front legs. A hint of pink coloured the horizon. There wasn’t enough time for them to make it back to the castle. 

Geralt lifted Jaskier’s still form with a grunt and struggled to mount Roach without jostling the man too much. He didn’t stir even once, not even when Roach galloped through the forest as if the hounds of hell were behind her. 

They reached the caves just as the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees. Geralt carried Jaskier into the cave, away from where the world came alive. There was no place for them out there in the light anymore.

Roach would be fine in the forest, which was one worry off Geralt’s mind as he placed Jaskier on the cold ground at the very back of the cave, where there was nothing but darkness and damp. He smoothed the man’s hair back from his clammy forehead before sighing. Jaskier’s sluggish heartbeat echoed in the cave, the beats irregular and too far apart, and Geralt’s insides turned cold. 

He’d been too late after all, and there was only one thing left that he could do.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaskier felt like he was burning up from the inside, even as his body shivered violently. It made no sense. His body was sticky with sweat and Jaskier wrinkled his nose. He hated sweating. He ought to go and have a bath. 

But sitting up proved to be an impossible task. In fact, even opening his eyes felt like too monumental of a challenge and Jaskier gave up with a little huff. 

Something cool touched his forehead, and Jaskier tilted his head up with a little sigh, seeking relief for his hot skin.

“It’s alright. Sleep a while longer.” 

The rumbling voice vibrated though Jaskier’s chest and he settled back down. Sleep sounded like an excellent idea. 

***

Jaskier dreamt of running and cold wind numbing his cheeks. The night was quiet except for the sound of their harsh breaths and their boots hitting the ground. Her hand in his was small and clammy. 

And then her hand was gone and there was a flash of white and pain blooming from his neck down to his chest. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t see and he couldn’t breathe. 

He startled awake with a gasp and struggled into a sitting position so quickly it left his head dizzy. It had been a dream and yet he was breathing hard, as if he’d really been running. His chest felt strangely empty. 

“Easy.” 

There was the rumbling voice from his feverdreams again. Jaskier squinted in the darkness until his eyes settled on Geralt and he blinked. Yep, still Geralt. Was he still dreaming? Because he doubted that the Duke’s sour son was here - wherever ‘here’ was - telling Jaskier to take it easy. 

“Um.” Jaskier watched as Geralt moved closer.

“How’re you feeling?” 

“Um.” Jaskier repeated dumbly, because his brain felt empty and full of thoughts all at once. “I’m...alright I guess? Geralt, why’re you here? And where are we anyway? And why are you concerned? Your concern is making me concerned.”

“Hm.” 

That sounded more like Geralt, whom Jaskier hadn’t heard say more than a few words here and there. He watched as the man’s eery eyes dropped from Jaskier’s face to his neck, and he reflexively lifted a hand. Only his fingers didn’t touch smooth skin, or a splotch of dirt that might’ve caught Geralt’s attention. Instead they found gnarled skin and what felt like flakes of dried blood. Jaskier’s stilled and his breath caught in his throat. 

The silence around them was too loud in his ears and Jaskier’s stomach did some uncomfortable twisting as the past night came rushing back to him. Sarah had come to his room, and Jaskier could’ve cried when she’d told him she wanted to leave. He’d hated staying at the old castle and it’s many hidden nooks and crannies, the constant feeling of eyes watching and waiting and following him in the dark. As a child he’d always dreamt of adventures and heroics, but when the dalliance with the innkeeper’s daughter had led him to a castle full of vampires, Jaskier found that he wasn’t cut out to be a hero after all. The Duke had been nice to them, inviting them to stay, making them the guests of honour at his midnight ball. Sarah had revelled in the attention, while Jaskier would’ve loved nothing more dearly then to run away as far as he could under the safe cover of the sun. But he wasn’t about to leave Sarah behind, not after he’d promised to look after her. When she’d finally come to him, he thought she’d finally realised that they wouldn’t be the guest of honour so much as the midnight buffet. 

With every step that carried them away from the castle, the hope in his chest had grown, until Sarah had pulled him to a sudden stop. It wasn’t until her teeth latched onto his neck that Jaskier thought he maybe should’ve looked closer, should’ve questioned why she was suddenly so eager to leave. When she’d pulled back, her mouth had been smeared with blood, and as the rushing in Jaskier’s ears had grown and his mind slipped towards darkness, he thought that she looked like a child who was yet to clumsy to eat. Only a child wouldn’t be capable of grinning so maliciously, teeth glinting in the moonlight, before diving back in. The sucking sensation on his neck had been painful, nothing like a lover’s teasing bites, and Jaskier had welcomed unconsciousness after that. 

His hands were shaking in his lap and Jaskier curled them into fists before raising his eyes to meet Geralt’s gaze. This time he had no trouble reading the man, pity written clearly in his features. Jaskier hated it, so he put on a smile. 

“Well. Thanks for...whatever,” he waved his hand awkwardly around them. It looked like they were in a cave. “I’m feeling much improved. I can find my own way back from here.” If he pretended hard enough he could write the entire matter of as a bad dream. Jaskier was wonderful at pretending. 

He stumbled to his feet and took another deep breath. The air around them was stale and damp, and if Jaskier listened hard enough he could hear little critters and spiders crawling around the walls. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was low, and yet it boomed in the cave, his form towering over Jaskier. It was pitch black around them, but Jaskier saw Geralt’s pale face clearly, the corners of his lips downturned and his shoulders hunched as if they carried the weight of the world. Jaskier shouldn’t have been able to see him so clearly. He was as night blind as they came, stumbling around in the dark and stubbing his toes, even when the moon hung heavy in the sky and lit up his room. 

“Jaskier, there’s something you should know.”

Jaskier felt like his heart should be beating wildly in his chest to mirror the agitation he felt, but there was nothing. A wave of heat went through him before he shivered with cold once more. When he tentatively ran his tongue over his teeth, it snagged on something sharp. Jaskier probed at his canine teeth, equal parts fascinated and repulsed. 

“Geralt,” he finally said, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a vampire!” 

“Hm,” Geralt grunted in reply, like Jaskier’s revelation wasn’t life-changing. “I’m sorry. It was the only way to save you.” 

Well, the stunning revelations just wouldn’t stop tonight. “You. You made me?” Did that mean Jaskier was Geralt’s child now? Would that make things weird between them? Because Jaskier couldn’t quite deny that he was rather ...attracted to the brooding man. But being attracted to his vampire father sounded all kinds of wrong. 

Geralt lips twitched in distaste. “I’d prefer if you didn’t phrase it like that. I...by the time I found you it was...too late.” 

Jaskier nodded, like he understood when really, he didn’t. It was all a little overwhelming. One minute he was a measly little human, running away from the big bad vampires, and now he was one of them. With an insanely hot vampire father. 

“Alright. Yes. Yes that’s...quite alright, really,” he mumbled and plopped back down on the ground because he felt a little unsteady on his feet. “I mean...that’s exciting. Right?” 

Geralt’s expression was guarded. “Stay here. I’ll go and get you something to eat.” He turned and left before Jaskier even had a chance to reply, which was just as well, since it meant Jaskier could hyperventilate in peace. Though technically he supposed he didn’t need to hyperventilate anymore, because he didn’t need to breathe. Lifting a hand he traced his teeth, hissing when the edge of his canine teeth pierced the skin and drew a drop of blood. Apparently he hadn’t lost the ability to bleed. Or maybe that was just some weird transitioning phase? Oh, he had so many questions for Geralt. 

Jaskier liked the drop of blood from his fingertip, blinking when the taste exploded on his tongue and made his stomach rumble. As he thoughtfully sucked on his finger he suddenly realised what kind of food Geralt would probably think he wanted and he jumped to his feet. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier stumbled his way out of the cave, finding to his disappointment that being a vampire hadn’t blessed him with effortless grace. “Geralt! I don’t want a human snack!”


End file.
